The Fifth Angel
by SarahAdalaideHolmes
Summary: Moriarty had never accounted for the fact that the Holmes brothers had a half-sister. She was the fifth angel that he had not accounted for. Though Angels were not meant to kill or have been trained to kill and torture. Shame John did not see it that way.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- I don't own anything apart from my OC (Adalaide).

AN- Sorry if there are any mistakes as I am just awful at writing. I need a Beta, so if anyone wants to offer then can you message me. Thanks

Shout Out to **GagaMidnight** for her support and encouraging me to get this chapter uploaded.

Prologue- The imminent death of James Moriarty

If Sherlock's predictions are correct, then Sebastian Moran is two floors down and getting ready to shoot Dr Watson. I'm currently on the grimy roof across the Saint Bartholomew's Hospital with my guns set up ready to shoot at the signal that Sherlock gives to me.

The bastard, Sherlock was right, Moriarty would stoop as low as forcing Sherlock to committing suicide. Shame for him that Sherlock had come prepared and planned. The best thing, Moriarty was not going to come out of this fiasco alive. That was the reason that I was on the roof for and OH MY GOD! Moriarty just shot himself in the mouth and Sherlock; he's on the ledge and on the phone.

I signal the laser at him, letting him know that the lorry and cyclist's in place and my heart rattles as he jumps of the building. I want to squeeze my eyes shut instead, I focus on Moriarty's body and whilst I can hear sirens in the background, masked men run onto the roof and retrieve the Moriarty's body. I quickly pack up my gun and kit into my rucksack and I slip into the top apartment using the open window. Shedding of my jacket and black pants and dumping them inside the red rucksack I slipped outside the apartment, rushing down to the floor below. In the process of getting out to building, I bumped into the one and only, Sebastian Moran.

His face, was one of a person in despair, well I guess I would be at the moment, if my brother had really died but of course he hadn't. Moran just gave a cold stare and both of us went to the lift of the building. I, playing along with my part of a peppy, young adult, smiled at him and attempted to flirt with him. Whilst, the obvious blatant attempt at flirting my gaydar was beeping continuously, telling me that the man in front of me was either bisexual or gay. That was good news Moran would be too freaked out to think of me as suspicious.

I knew my flirting skills were bad but not that bad that he had to practically run out of the lift. Though I can now confirm to my boss that Moriarty was dead, Moran had received a call in which he was told that his "brother", (brother?), Richard was dead. Well one down and a whole network to go and I have to admit it, I was itching to whip out my knife from my bra-strap and stab Moran in the heart. I refrained to do so, as my boss had instructed and disobeying him would be very unprofessional.

Looking outside to where Moran had disappeared to, I smirked, if only he knew he had been conversing with the fifth person that was close to Sherlock Holmes. The second unaccounted person, such a deplorable mistake made by Moriarty, though I must say that he was not aware of my existence and my connection to Sherlock was hidden ever so well by Mycroft. Moran would shoot himself if he knew that he was in a lift with the half-sister of the Holmes brothers. I should introduce myself. My name is Adalaide Sara Raza-Holmes.

Please review and next chapter is twice as long


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- I don't own Sherlock and any character that you don't recognise (General Taylor etc.) and my OC are mine and are a figment of my imagination.

AN- 60 hits Whooo! Special thanks to my reviewers **GagaMidnight, Irene Holmes (Anon) and Moonlight Phoenix**

Also my OC was originally called Sara Raza and her name will change soon in the story and take up her true family name.

Chapter One- I'm a not a Raza!

It all started when I was eleven. I had just entered my first year of secondary school and was looking forward to it. It was awkward at first as I was the only person from my primary school entering into private education, Bury Grammar School for Girls to be more specific.

I was walking to the local newsagent when I was intercepted into a shiny black Mercedes. I put up a fight but three overgrown men overpowered a small five foot girl. There inside the car was a man with the blondest hair that would put Draco Malfoy's hair to shame. I really need a filter on my mouth as the first thing that came out of my mouth was "How much bleach do you use and I'm sure it is not legal for the government to kidnap young girls?"

The dark-haired secretory laughed and smirked at the blonde man. Blondy stared at me and barked at me, "If you care about your mother's happiness than you will listen". That did shut me up, causing me to stare long and hard at him. "My name is General Taylor and if you don't want your step-father to be deported back to Pakistan than you will comply will comply with our requests. Your IQ levels are high, so dumb it down whilst you're in school and cause trouble. When your services are needed we will contact you", these were the words that General Taylor spat out at me in disgust.

"What! How dare you blackmail me you imbecile fools", was the response that I managed to retort. "I can get your step-father deported, keep that in mind and you are entering a prestigious department of government that only around a hundred people know off. Welcome to M1 Miss Raza", General Taylor spoke to me, before throwing me out of the car. "Bloody Hell" were the only words that came out of my mouth.

….

It would be three years before they contacted me again. I was trained to shoot, fence, dance and speak a variety of languages. I also took up my old hobbies or rock climbing and archery. I discovered that I was a natural at shooting but then again with my genes, I was natural at anything.

I was seventeen when I discovered that I was not the daughter of , my biological father. It was meant to be a simple experiment in which I was trying to determine my white blood cell count, when I stumbled across the lab stool and onto the computer, pressing some buttons on the way. "Shit" was all that come from my mouth; my DNA was being compared to all the samples in the UK DNA database. That knowledge alone sent me running to my team manager, in an attempt to stop the mess that I had accidently caused.

"Houston we have a problem"

Russell Holmes. He had two sons, one considerably older than me and another near my age and he was dead. Died, when I was fourteen, I decided to get in contact with my elder half-brother, Mycroft. Damn that was weird; at least I was not the eldest anymore, though due to the nature of my involvement with the government I could not question my mother about her relations to Russell. Hell I was in a predicament myself, the new recruit that I had recruited had managed to catch my eye and since we attended the same sixth form, our new cover was that we were a romantic couple. What was Houston thinking when he came up with the cover story, as both of us were Muslim and there was bound to be trouble in the form of the other Muslim students. Thankfully, both of agreed that we would appear to be close friends and if people asked we would just deny and let rumours take their course.

….

I entered the obituary and looked at the dead body of Sherlock Holmes. I forced myself to gasp, bumble about and cry. I hope I at least get a bloody BAFTA for this and Sherlock better appreciate this. "My dear brother, MY BROTHER", I shriek at the body and then I whip around and face Mycroft, true utter rage cursing through my blood, "You it's all your fault, that stupid work of yours caused Sherlock to be a target" . I was speaking utter truth when saying this, my work life would never interfere with my personal life and I would kill myself than allow my little half-sister and my family to come to harm due to my job. Hence, the reasoning behind my agent name, Zorro, no-one suspected me to be female and I found that I enjoyed the anonymity.

Due to my shrieking's, I was now off Mycroft's suspicious list and I know it wouldn't be long before he would become suspicious of the suicide. Well I knew I would definitely be not on the list anyway but I would not be a good spy if I didn't make that I wasn't on it. Prejudiced idiot, I had just recently turned eighteen when I went to see him. My background check on him had come up with the knowledge that my elder brother was a member of MI6 and that he was a good agent. Well, best to be on guard, if he was anything like me then he would hard to fool. Upon entering the hotel room, I had been instructed to go to, I saw a strawberry blonde man in a three-piece fancy suit with and umbrella, staring me down distastefully. The meeting to say was awful, I was called a bastard child to a whore and the whole time I just stood there shaking from anger, to Mycroft though it would seem that I was trying not to cry. It took all my restraint, to not yell at him all my secrets.

At eighteen, I was already fairly powerful, I was friendly with the Royal Family, posing as their bodyguards during the time that I had off from school. I, Sara Raza, was a fully trained assassin and part of a department of the secret service that the almighty Mycroft was not aware of. I was fairly intelligent but due to my position in M1, could not show this but the most significant fact that I had managed to procure myself a scholarship to study Law at Oxford. Ha! I would be the first Holmes in five generations to be accepted at Oxford, even Mycroft had been rejected, beat that Mycroft. I did my Law degree under the alias of Sara Khan. I look forward to the day when I can reveal my true past to Mycroft and I will laugh at his face for not being the awful words that he described me to be.

AN- Adalaide meets Sherlock in the next chapter

Please Review


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